Politics, Religion and Her
by DizzyDrea
Summary: Sometimes, he can forget.


Title: Politics, Religion and Her  
Author: DizzyDrea  
Summary: Sometimes, he can forget.  
Rating: E for everyone  
Spoilers: Anything up to and including Season 5  
Author's Notes: I love country music. I realize that's pretty weird coming from a native Californian, but there it is just the same. So, much of my musical inspiration actually comes from country music. This story in particular comes from the song Politics, Religion And Her by Sammy Kershaw. And some bizarre need to see Daniel suffer. Go figure.  
Disclaimer: Stargate and all its particulars is the property of MGM, Gekko, Double Secret, Acme Shark and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

Author's Note 3/18/11: I wrote this a long time ago, and only decided recently to post it. It's quite apropos, since it's raining here-really gloomy, kinda like this fic. And I'm posting it so that you Stargate fans will have something new to read.

~&O&~

Sometimes, he can forget.

Sometimes he can go for minutes, hours, days and not remember. Sometimes he'll remember, and it's all he can do to simply breathe through the pain until it passes. But most of the time, he simply forgets to remember, because remembering is too hard.

Sometimes, when he's off world, sitting under a blanket of stars watching the first rays of sunlight tint the night sky purple and pink, he can almost believe that things are normal. That he's living a normal life. That she's waiting at home for him. But then the memories rush in and they bring the pain. It's just easier to forget.

Sometimes, when he's in his office, working on translations, he can look at the endless symbols marching past on endless tablets and not think about her. Not think about the fact that the evil that wrote these tablets is the same evil that controlled her.

Sometimes, when he's sitting in Jack's living room, and his teammates surround him, and the moment seems so normal, he forgets that she died. He forgets that his life is anything but normal. He forgets that he should feel…anything. The numbness is good. It's better than the pain.

He knows that his friends want to help him. Help him heal. Help him move on. He also knows that they don't know how. And frankly, he doesn't know how to either. Because if he did, he would have done it by now.

He also knows that there are things that they avoid talking to him about. Because treading that ground is too dangerous. One never knows what one will find.

They don't talk about politics, because really, what is there to say? They all know that Senator Kinsey has tried to shut down or co-opt the program multiple times—probably more than they know about, but why borrow trouble? They know he has his own agenda. What politician doesn't?

And that, really, is the heart of the problem. Politics is all about the agenda. What you stand to gain and what you stand to lose when you choose an action or take a stand. And truth be told, he's lost patience with it. It's never about what's best for anyone other than the person with the agenda. And if others get hurt, too bad. Better luck next time. Even if the ones getting hurt are important to you.

And they most definitely don't talk about religion. Because the truth of it is that there's a difference between religion and faith, and while he had the latter, in some measure at some point in his life, the former is just a mechanism for control. They've seen it with the Goa'uld since day one. Blind devotion to one's god. Atrocities committed in the name of religion.

A reasoning man would say that religion for the sake of religion is pointless. That a man of faith must have good, intellectual reasons for that faith. Not proof, per se, because how does one prove that which he cannot see or touch? No, not proof, but sound reasons, logical reasons.

But the universe is littered with blind followers who believe out of fear or a thirst for power. And while they can save some, they can't save everyone.

Which is why they never, ever talk about her.

Because they couldn't save her. Because she was a slave and a persecutor at the same time. And because his life ended, in a manner of speaking, the instant hers did.

He promised to find her son. The son of the demon inside her. Her flesh but the monster's mind.

But his whole reason for doing this, way back at the beginning, was to find her. Find her and free her. He had failed at that. Then they found her son. But he showed them that it was better for everyone if he stayed away. Safer. Wiser.

And so now he has no reason to keep going, but he still keeps going. He is a shell of his former self, he knows. There isn't much left at all of the idealistic young man who risked everything all those years ago, only to find himself light years away, on another planet with people speaking a language he could barely understand.

There is no more thrill of discovery. There is no more flush of success. There isn't even any anger anymore. There's only numbness now. The sensation that he's sleepwalking through life, only vaguely aware of what's happening around him.

He knows that's got to stop. People could get hurt that way, and the last thing he wants is for anyone to get hurt because of him. Of course the numbness could just as easily get him killed one of these days. He's not sure which would be worse.

And he's sure they notice. They just don't say it out loud. Because it doesn't matter what you're talking about, it's there, like a spectre in the room. A cold shadow, hiding, waiting, ready to devour him with pain so searing that he's sure he'd never survive.

It's always there, in everything they talk about, and in the things they don't.

Politics. Religion. Her.

But sometimes, he can forget.

~Finis


End file.
